Courage and Anxiety solo Finished

It was really quite sad that she'd lost her voice. It was one of the days when she felt as if she could actually bring herself to sing, a day she got a bout of confidence. Yes, in years past she'd shown to not be afraid of singing but... it was a front, of course. She had always been so anxious, no matter the circumstances. Still, she did have one musical outlet that didn't involve her breath or voice... The piano was her third musical talent, one which she would gladly play even if she wasn't able to use the instrument she usually would have.

It was early, barely after curfew was let up. No one really bothered getting up and walking around. They likely wanted sleep, she reasoned. At least she wouldn't have to try and talk to someone, which would have been torture on her vocal cords. She didn't even know how she'd managed to lose her voice, in fact. It wasn't as if she spoke loudly, and she had certainly not done so the day before. Yet it was so difficult for her to get a single word out on this day. It baffled her, quite frankly. Once again, she had to push away her unnecessary thoughts. She let out a sigh, a slight rasp heard. She could always get it fixed in the hospital wing, but she didn't quite feel like doing such a thing - not at that moment, at the least.

She reached the rehearsal room without difficulty, fast considering that she had gone up 5 (4? 5?) staircases, some of which moved, in less than 10 minutes. Her steps were silent against the flooring, as always, the soles of the black ballet flats she wore on her feet tapping faintly only on occasion. It was an advantage of having such abilities, sneaking around. Not that she used it for that. That was irrelevant.

Into the room, to the piano sitting forlornly beneath the arched ceiling. The girl pushed her hair out of her face, wishing she'd tied it back. But alas, she could do nothing for it. It was a relief that she knew the melody she wished to play by heart because otherwise, even her last attempt at musical salvation would prove fruitless. Put at ease, she took a seat at the piano. A deep breath in and out, placing her fingers on the keys. They started slowly, beginning to glide across the keys with practised ease. It was fluid movements, across the white and black, forming chords and melodies and filling her ears with calming music. The familiarity of it, the notes blending together in a way that was familiar and somehow seemed foreign. It seemed impossible that such beautiful noises could be produced by someone who knew so little about love. A song that she would have loved to connect with, but one she never would. Nevertheless, the notes which weaved together would stay in her head.

She shut her eyes, letting herself go through the notes. Therapeutic. She couldn't help but sway lightly to the music. It wasn't the same as hearing it through her headphones, but that made it feel all the more authentic. For a moment, she began humming along but the discomfort it caused made her remember that she couldn't use her voice. Woe was her, she supposed.

As the song finished, she didn't move from her seat. She continued to sit there, desperately wishing for a pair of glasses to fix her horrid eyesight. She couldn't focus on things. It was good that she knew the keyboard, but learning would prove to be difficult without her eyes to guide her. She depended a lot on them, she realized. She really should have gotten glasses over the summer, when it had first become apparent that she needed them. Now she was just straining her eyes with no reason whatsoever.

She sighed again, deciding to simply play another song to draw her mind away from personal problems. Again, she went through the familiar motions of the song. Faintly, she could hear the noise of her fingers pressing the keys down a tad hard at times. It reminded her a bit of keyboards clacking, but that was against the point.

She really needed to stop thinking - she could do that when she had to learn. For now, it was the weekend. It was not "Sapphire can't stop thinking" day, despite what her brain seemed to think. She stopped, betting lost in the music - finally. She felt relief, to no longer be trapped within her own head. The notes were keeping her locked in the moment.

Those were not the only songs she played - no, certainly not. She dredged up melodies from memory, songs that had been long forgotten pulled up to the surface as if they were a pirate's treasure chest and pried open to reveal still pristine memories. They stuck with her. They echoed off the walls for nearly an hour before her body recognized that she had not had breakfast. She probably needed nourishment, she recognized. It wasn't good for her to go an entire day without food, regardless of whether she'd ever listened to that herself or no. That wasn't important.

Reluctantly, she pulled herself away from the keyboard and headed out of the room, back down the stairs to the Great Hall for a quick breakfast. Then she would continue on with her day, no sign that her time in the rehearsal room had even been spent.